Tracy
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Jobson Batt and Ernie Young toasted each other with a warm glass of fine French brandy. Disaster Damage Team, or DDT, was doing fabulously well, and they congratulated themselves on their perspicacity and foresight.
Another storm was heading for the west coast, and they chortled happily in anticipation of plenty more work for their booming business.
Sawyer reached for his boots, his eyes still blind with sleep. He didn’t know how much longer he could cope with all this. Years ago, when he’d joined the Weather Incident Rescue Team, or WIRT, he’d imagined a relatively easy life, long spells of inactivity in which to play poker with his team-mates, and an occasional exciting incident. Little did he realize that he would be working on average a 100 hour week…and even then, the team was chronically short-staffed.
Get out of bed you lazy fuckwits, shouted Captain Hendrix. GET UP!! GET UP!! The storms a mile off Blinton Lighthouse, GET UP!!
hahaha, well fuck it, we had better ask Sam, you ask him Becky! Shouted Tina at the top of her voice.
This Ogrean character seems to be getting alot of stick, eh, Tina, Becky was frowning.
Yeah, Tina agreed, Bit OTT if you ask me. Dunno what all that’s about.
Seems like a scapegoat really, Becky mused, but in truth she was perplexed.
Becky, what is Sam talking about with all those stinky juicy bandages?
Fucked if I know, Tina, I was hoping you could tell me!
Claudio rubbed the grimy dagger on his shirt tail. There was a row of jewels along the hilt, ruby, emerald, sapphire, amethyst…
Oh you and your delete button, Tina! And what rubbish, ‘we can’t have it not making sense’ Since when did it ever make sense? Don’t try and blame me for your delete disorder, sweetie pooh!
Besides, Tina, you can spell Joe with an E or and A or a U, I still don’t know who the fuck Joe is.
Tina sighed. Becky, have some more coffee.
Claudio pulled himself together and bent over the dusty trunk. Of course it hadn’t opened on its own, he was imagining things. The contents were wrapped in an indigo shawl. Claudio peeled back the cloth, sneezed, and pulled out a jewelled dagger.
Becky scratched her head in confusion. She wondered if she’d ever catch up with all the new characters and story lines in the Reality Play. Who the fuck was Joe? Yeah, he was cute, but who was he?
Becky sneezed again and shivered. Her cold was making her feel strangely disconnected and floaty. Nothing made much sense anymore, but it didn’t really seem to matter.
Ted always felt the cold, and the saloon was freezing. He clenched his chattering teeth for as long as he could, and then could stand it no longer. He dashed outside to grab a sweater out of his saddlebag, grimacing with cold.
The Sheriff, trembling with cold, tugged at the sleeve of his sweater, and inadvertently pulled a small canvas bag out, spilling the contents all over the side of Dervish, his horse.
Hallucinogenic green frogs boinged and scattered all over the place.
Yikes! shouted Ted. This is gonna be one helluva f’kin trip now!
Beattie and Leonora had finished unpacking their belongings, and had rearranged the meager furnishings of the little white washed cottage. There was one item as yet unpacked: a sturdy wooden crate.
What are we going to do with them, Bea?
Hmmm? Beattie looked up from the computer. Oh, the bloody skulls. Well, not on the mantelpiece that’s for sure! We’ll have to hide them again. How about in the old bread oven outside?
There’s an idea, replied Leonora. Give us a hand then, Bea…
But Beattie was busy tapping away at the keyboard. Well, what a coincidence! she cackled, turning round to face Leo. Bert’s found another one!
True focuses
Funny aspects
Badul loved mother attention,
Despite forgotten black eyes
